The Secrets of the Veil
by Buckbeak Ate My Wand
Summary: A friendship bloomed in the winter of 1994 in Grimmauld Place between two very unlikely people. When one half of that friendship is snatched away suddenly, the other has to continue her life as normal - Until a project within the Department of Mysteries opens up new possibilities and second chances. A tale of passion and loss. HG-20 - HG/SB -
1. Chapter 1

Chapter One

_1994_

When he had first seen Hermione Granger bent over the wounded figure of the youngest Weasley boy, with her brilliant mind and her brilliant hair and even more brilliant smile, he had an peculiar feeling that they has already been acquainted. Of course, there was no likelihood of that; He had spent half of his life rotting in a cell in Azkaban and she was far too young for them to have met before that. He soon decided after that first introduction that she was unequivocally fantastic. She reminded him of Remus when they were students, but with more spirit. He felt very grateful to have met her as he mounted Buckbeak and made his farewells. He did not see her again after that for a year. Being an escaped convict in hiding made maintaining a social like slightly tricky. Although, he had Buckbeak for company and had acquired an owl, and that was better than the company he'd had for the past twelve years. After their first encounter, Sirius did not see or speak to Hermione. Harry would mention her in his letters sometimes, but to him, she was just his Godson's best friend. He never forgot how much he owed her though.

_Grimmauld Place, 1995_

The trio had broken up from school for the Christmas holiday and spent the days leading up to it at Grimmauld Place with the rest of the Order. While Harry and Ron had spent most of their time exploring London and Diagon Alley, Hermione stayed in the house and chose to explore the various rooms. Sirius watched her from afar, unbeknownst to the young witch as she discovered the nooks and crannies of the first and second floor. He found her fascination with the Black family library quite amusing and couldn't imagine a more delighted expression on her face than the one she wore when she first saw it. He watched her skim the various books with her eyes and caress the spines with her fingertips. She was so gentle with them, stroking the pages of a few books she picked out.

"I wondered when you'd find this place," Sirius finally spoke, stepping out of the shadows and crossing his arms with a teasing smile.

She looked surprised to see him; apparently he was still as light footed as he had been in his younger days. She gave him a beaming smile and gestured towards one of the many shelves, "It's incredible. I feel like I'm in heaven,"

They laughed together and he took a step closer to where she was stood.

"Well, you're welcome to borrow any book you fancy. Merlin knows they need some attention after so long."

"Oh, could I really, Sirius?" she said eagerly, crushing the book she held to her chest. He nodded with a small smile and slowly circled the room, appraising it with calm eyes. As much as he hated returning there, he could tell the kids loved being at the house. Harry especially. Grimmauld Place meant to Harry what the Potter's home had meant to him when he was that age.

"There's a lot of muggle fiction," Hermione commented, tearing Sirius from his short moment in the past. He glanced at her, gazing down at the book in her hands, her unruly hair shielding most of her face from him.

"Yes," he said with hilarity, "I had noticed that too. For saying my mother hated them so much, she owned quite an extensive collection of their literature."

She chuckled and took a seat on the green Chesterfield in the centre of the room, enquiring if he would join her. He did, and sat beside her with one leg crossed comfortably over the other, his left arm stretched over the back of the sofa, and his right hand fiddling with the stubble on his chin. He appeared the embodiment of a pureblood heir, Hermione thought.

"Have you read many of them?" She asked softly, feeling slightly self-conscious sitting so close to him.

He nodded, fixing her with his intense gaze, "I've read over half, and would have read more had I not been evicted when I was sixteen." His eyes never left hers, but she found herself unable to match his gaze for long.

"Well," she said, looking back to him with a confident grin, "now you have a chance to finish them."

A book was suddenly placed in Sirius' lap and she proceeded to ask him if he had read it. He removed his arm from the back of the sofa and flipped open the front cover with his thumb. It read: "Little Dorrit, by Charles Dickens".

"I can't say I've read many of the classic muggle romances," he smirked.

"Well, you can start with this one then," she said firmly, but with a pleasant smile decorating her lips.

_Diagon Alley, 1995_

After their pleasant encounter in the library, Sirius found himself spending more and more time with Hermione. He enjoyed her company greatly, and although he wasn't even nearly clever as she was, they could maintain intelligent conversation and genuinely enjoy it. Christmas was quickly creeping upon them and it had only just occurred to Sirius that he hadn't even put any thought towards buying gifts. It had been so long since he had enjoyed a Christmas with friends that he found himself quite excited. He vowed to make it the best Christmas Harry would ever have. After all, Sirius was finally back in the picture and if there was one thing he knew, it was how to have fun.

He found his favourite young witch stood over the sink in the kitchen, scrubbing what appeared to be dried porridge from a bowl. He couldn't understand why she ever chose to clean the muggle way but knew better than to question her.

"Good morning, Sirius." She greeted cheerfully without even turning around.

He shook his head and chuckled, leaning against the work surface. "How did you know it was me?"

"You're not as quiet as you think you are," she laughed and turned to look at him with the bowl still in her hands. Sirius took it from her with a roll of his eyes and cleaned it with a simple _scourgify_.

"Are the boys not up yet?" he asked, meaning Harry, Ron, Fred and George.

She shook her head, "No, they aren't used to late night wizard card games with fire whiskey involved. And Fred is still nursing a bruise from the game before."

He chuckled and threw his hands in the air dramatically, "What can I say? Wizard poker makes me competitive."

"Dangerous more like," she muttered under her breath with raised eyebrows.

"What was that?" Sirius asked, leaning towards her, pretending he didn't know exactly what she had just said. But she feigned innocence with a mischievous glint in her eyes, trying not to smile at the melodramatic marauder.

"Honestly, Hermione," he sighed theatrically, "all this talking back is really starting to test my patience. You need to learn to respect your elders."

His teasing tone reassured her that he was just joking.

They stood in content silence for a moment before Sirius asked if she would like to join him in Diagon Alley.

"What takes you there?" she inquired, taking a seat at the table.

"Tis the season to be jolly, 'Mione," he replied playfully.

She nodded in understanding, "Christmas presents," she stated, "left that a bit late, don't you think?"

"Late?! I would call three days before sufficient time!" he exclaimed, feigning shock.

She chuckled and agreed to go with him. He liked that he could make her laugh; she didn't seem to laugh so much in front of the others, he'd noticed.

"Do you know what you're getting Harry then?" she inquired once they arrived in Diagon Alley.

"I thought I'd just…make it up as I go along," he admitted, waving his hands around, "but we can't stay for long. This disillusion charm will only last for just over an hour and I can't afford to be recognised."

"It didn't even occur to me you were still a wanted man," she confessed, with a sombre tone. Sirius was aware that Hermione greatly pitied him for his time spent in such an awful place. He didn't want anyone's pity though, especially not from the people he cared about.

"Where shall we go first?" Hermione asked as they strolled through the bustling streets.

"It's been a few years since I've been here, do I think you should lead the way."

Half an hour later and they were no closer to finding a present than they had been when they arrived.

"I hate Christmas shopping." He grumbled, becoming more and more irritated as the throng of people multiplied.

"I see the novelty has worn off," Hermione joked, "I think your best bet is something quidditch related."

Sirius nodded, and then it occurred to him that he hadn't seen her buy anything so far.

"Oh, I bought mine about a month ago. I always plan ahead," she explained simply.

He couldn't hold back his scowl; he had never been that sort of person, the planning ahead time. Spontaneity was his area of expertise and he usually hated organised people. Hermione was an exception.

They returned to Grimmauld Place twenty minutes later, having had a triumphant trip in the end. Sirius had successfully bought Harry a present he would most certainly like, and had somehow managed to buy something for Hermione without her even noticing. He definitely had a good feeling about Christmas that year.

_The Death Chamber, 1996_

The battle raged around everyone as all Order members fought tooth and claw against their opponents. The air was charged with electricity as bodies flew from the receiving ends of wands and neither side appeared to be winning nor losing. Each Order member had their own Death Eater to deal with, but every so often Sirius' eyes would flit over to where Hermione was matching Macnair with some equally nasty curses. He couldn't help but have a fleeting feeling of pride as he hastily watched her beating the Death Eater down with some impressive spells. At one moment the room was crackling with energy but now it felt like a black, ominous cloud hung over them all.

Hermione, noticing that Ginny was becoming slightly overwhelmed by Dolohov, distracted herself from Macnair for a moment to send a full body-binding curse in that direction but as she did, Macnair took advantage of her momentary interference and kicked her in the stomach, knocking her over and sending her wand flying from her hand.

The battle was now beginning to sway to one side and most Order members were struggling to hold off their rivals, whereas Sirius appeared to be rather enjoying duelling with his cousin, provoking her with insults and poking her with childish jibes.

When Dumbledore finally arrived, Neville had just finished Macnair off, who had been gleefully rounding on Hermione, wandless and sprawled on the stone floor with blood pouring from the back of her head. The scene had briefly distracted Sirius from Bellatrix who remained hot on his heels whilst the other Death Eaters fled from the scene from fear of Dumbledore.

All that was happening around them went unnoticed by the two cousins battling in the centre of the room and once everything else was calm, all everyone could do was watch the scene unfurl between Bellatrix and Sirius. Nobody dared move, and nobody dared interfere.

There was nothing Sirius loved more than humiliating his relatives, and Bellatrix had always been so easy to irritate. "I do believe your time in Azkaban has given you the reflexes of a Flobberworm," he shouted, earning a few chuckles from those watching. Even Hermione could feel her lips twitch at that comment, although she was soon reminded of how deadly the witch, he was so quick to insult, actually was as her reply was a scorching spell that narrowly missed him.

It rather seemed to Remus that his fellow marauder was mainly performing for the crowd, rather than trying to defend himself as his next move was to send a tooth scrubbing spell at her.

"Oh, don't give me that look; I've done you a favour! I could smell your breath from here, Belly!" Sirius chuckled, using his extra time to send her flying upside down in the air and spinning like an angry Billywig.

It was clear to every person in the room that his time spent in Azkaban had not slowed his reflexes, nor dulled his magical ability in any way and the same could be said for his opponent. Bellatrix battled as fiercely as if her life depended on it, but in the end it was Sirius' life that truly depended on it.

"Come on, cousin," Sirius barked, his infectious laughter filling the air and even putting a small smile on the faces of the people watching, "You can do better than that!"

And he was not wrong, because the moment the words left his mouth, Bellatrix sent a bone breaking curse in his direction. The deafening crack of his spine straightened his back, standing him to his full height, freezing his features as he looked upon the manic witch before him. He knew he was done for then; He'd pushed his cousin too far this time. And so with that, she sent it. The curse no one ever needed to name. It bounded through him, burning and tearing through life and limb. His mind wanted to go numb, but his body wouldn't let it - so it made him think of her, the brunette girl he knew was standing behind him, watching his life end as she was just starting hers.

The unnatural silence carried his body backwards into the Veil but all that she could hear was a deafening ring in her ears as she crumbled to the floor beside her allies, and tears seeped from her eyes and the sound of Harry's anguished screams resonated off the walls. She watched as Harry prepared himself to jump in after Sirius, but Remus seized him and held him firmly to his chest. No one was aware that Hermione too, with pressure slowly building in her throat and her nose stinging, wanted nothing more than to follow him to where ever the Veil had taken him.

When Harry escaped from Remus' hold to pursue Bellatrix, Hermione could no longer hold in the wail of emotional agony that had been brewing inside of her. She tore off the chain around her neck, too numb to notice the burn it left on her skin, and held the small golden book charm that Sirius had given her at Christmas, clasping it to her chest as sobs wracked through her body. Though she was knelt in a room encircled by her friends, she suddenly felt incredibly alone.

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You guys know the drill - I would love to get as much feedback as possible, so please please review. Any feedback would be appreciated so much!


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter Two

_18th June, 2001_

Hermione was awake before the rest of the house arose. Grabbing her dressing gown, she made her way down the staircase and towards the kitchen. She usually woke quite early, but that particular morning she couldn't have stayed in bed any longer. Hermione wasn't expecting, however, to find that someone had already beaten her to it and was sat at the kitchen table with a pot of tea in front of them.

"Harry…" she said softly, "why are you up so early?"

Her dark haired friend lifted his head to appraise her. He looked drained, she noticed, and miserable. He half smiled at her, though it didn't reach his eyes.

"Couldn't sleep," he replied quietly as she took the seat opposite him.

She helped herself to some tea and reached a hand out to clasp his, giving it a gentle squeeze. "Neither could I," she replied.

Harry sighed – it was the sigh of a man who had lost too much; too many things he cared about.

"It never gets easier, 'Mione." He croaked, his voice cracking when he said her name.

"I know, Harry, I know," she had to hold herself back from crumbling but she knew that would do Harry no favours whatsoever. It was exactly five years since they lost Sirius in the Department of Mysteries. Harry was right; it never got easier. Not for Harry and Hermione anyway. It still felt like yesterday – the wounds still felt fresh enough. So fresh that no one even dared mention Sirius within the walls of Grimmauld Place, nor around Harry. And that was the worst part; they never spoke of their fond memories of him, or the happy times they had together. Everyone but Hermione avoided the subject like it was something to be ashamed of.

It was around this date that Harry would become distant each year. Even Hermione couldn't pull him back, and Ginny had learnt to just leave him to it.

"Why the tea?" Hermione suddenly asked.

Harry shrugged, "thought it was too early for anything stronger."

Hermione smiled and summoned a bottle of fire whiskey from a cabinet, "certainly not," she cried, pouring them both a double shot, "bottoms up!"

They together knocked it back silently but Hermione couldn't help pulling a face as the cool burn slid down her throat.

"How long have we got?" He asked gently.

Hermione glanced at the clock and then replied dejectedly, "About three hours."

It was obvious that neither of them particularly wanted to leave the safety of the house.

"So, plenty of time to have a few more of these," Harry suggested, picking up the whiskey bottle and pouring them both another glass.

In Loving Memory of

Sirius Orion Black III

A Wronged Man

Hermione must have read and reread those words over thirty times since the memorial stone was placed in the grounds of Hogwarts. Of course, it wasn't too visible to the public; some people still rejected the man's new found innocence. But it had been built between the Forbidden Forest and the Whomping Willow, where he, James, Remus and Peter had spent their nights during the full moon. It was a simple stone – there was nothing grand or extravagant about it. Remus saw no point in making it look pretty; Sirius would never see it anyway.

Each witch and wizard was dressed in their best black robes – Everyone except Luna, who wore a lime green slip dress covered in pumpkin prints. Molly had rather rudely expressed how thoughtless she thought the girl had been with regards to her choice of clothing, but Molly had never much liked Sirius anyway and those who were close to him knew that he'd rather there hadn't been such a formal, dull event in his memory.

Hermione, Harry, Ron, Ginny, George, Remus, Teddy, Molly, Arthur, Minerva, Neville, Luna, Hagrid, Bill and Fleur each paid their respects to the fallen marauder. They stood in silence, very few of them shed a tear for him but every one of them had a deep veneration for Sirius.

When the memorial service was over, Hermione lingered.

Harry had immediately apparated back to the house as he did every year, giving no one the chance to properly speak to him.

Once she was certain no one was going to turn and follow her, Hermione reached into her bag and pulled out the first book of hers that Sirius had borrowed. When Hermione had found it, resting on the cabinet beside his bed, it was evident that he hadn't actually finished it because the bookmark was placed three quarters into the book. To others it might have seemed a bit strange, putting a book in place of flowers down at a grave stone – but Hermione knew how much he had enjoyed reading Jane Eyre and it seemed to her like something he would have appreciated more than some pretty flowers. Hermione had never had him down as the sort of man to value muggle fiction, especially one like Jane Eyre. It seemed quite ironic that a man who had spent so much time in Azkaban, living like a caged animal with only murderers and psychopaths for company, could return to civilisation and enjoy a good romantic classic.

"Hermione?" A voice cried from behind her, "Ah, there you are! I've been looking everywhere for you,"

Hermione turned from the grave, her eyes awash with unshed tears, and saw Neville marching up to her. Once he saw her face, he enveloped her with his arms, her head fitting comfortably underneath his chin.

"We must leave, Kingsley is expecting you back at the house and I've got training later," He said softly, holding her away from him and wiping her cheeks with his thumb. He turned so she was tucked into his side and walked back the way they came through the grounds and joined Ron by Hagrid's hut.

"Everyone has gone back to Grimmauld Place; although I tried to stop them…Harry won't want so much company right now." Ron announced once they'd reached him.

"Shall we?" Neville smiled, holding his arm out for Hermione to take. She nodded, and they apparated back to Grimmauld Place with Ron.

"Where is Harry?" Hermione inquired once they arrived back.

Remus set Teddy down in the drawing room and answered, "I believe he's confined himself to Sirius' room. Give him time," he said softly.

Hermione smiled adoringly down at Teddy as he came towards her with open arms. She gripped the young boy under his arms and lifting him onto her hip. "How are you coping, Remus?" she asked, giving his son a tender kiss on the forehead.

"We're doing well; he's so much like his mother. He woke me up crying a few nights ago and when I went to check on him he'd morphed his mouth into a snout," he chuckled, "Like a pig."

"He's a credit to her, Remus. You've done so well raising him alone,"

He smiled affectionately, "I couldn't have done it without you and Harry though. He couldn't have asked for better god parents."

"That's nice of you to say," She smiled, putting Teddy down and taking a seat by the fire.

"I mean it, Hermione,"

She glanced at Remus briefly, who had now taken a seat beside her. "It's been three years since I lost Nymphadora; I think of her every day. I never thought I'd be without her, which was silly of me. But it gives me peace of mind to know I still have part of her, in our son."

They were both silent for a moment; Hermione knew she didn't need to say anything, so she just held his hand.

"Daddy, someone's at the door," Teddy said, tugging on Remus' trouser leg and pointing at the entrance of the room.

"That would be Kingsley; he wants to speak to you, Hermione," Remus said. They both stood from their seats and walked from the drawing room into the kitchen where most of the Order were sat or stood as Molly made the lunch.

"You wanted to speak to me, Minister?" Hermione asked Kingsley, joining him by the fire.

"Yes, would you mind if we went somewhere more private?" he asked politely, gesturing towards the door to the study.

She followed him through the hallway and once in the room asked, "Is this about work, Minister?"

He nodded, "Yes. Something in the Department of Mysteries has arisen and you've been assigned the task of discovering its secrets, Miss Granger."

"And where in the Department will I be placed?" she asked slowly.

"The Death Chamber," he replied.

There it was – that obstructive lump in her throat again. The same one she felt the moment she watched Sirius fall through the Veil. And now Kingsley was telling her she had to go back into that room – the room where he died.

"Tell me more," she said quietly, her voice slightly strained.

She leant against the wall, her eyes going out of focus as she took in the information.

"There has been a kind of disruption with the Veil; workers in the Department have reported hearing cries coming from the other side and the stone seems to have been more…alive of late – if that is the word. I made the decision yesterday that it's time to stop shying from that room; it needs investigating and I've chosen you to go forward with it."

"I'll get to work right away, Minister; I need a distraction from all this…" she trailed off, not quite sure what it was she was trying to say.

He nodded, "the truths of life sometimes get too much, even for the strongest of us – I understand."

Somehow Hermione believed he did understand. Kingsley had lost friends too. They all had. All they could do to take their minds off the reality of their lives was to work through it – create a distraction.

Kingsley left soon after their discussion and Hermione owled her boss, requesting a list of names for every victim of the Veil. The reply arrived the following day and she immediately moved into the old study and began work.

It soon became clear to Hermione that the list she was given was not just any ordinary list – she had successfully spotted something that other ministry members had failed to notice. For some reason that she was not yet aware, the Veil did not just haphazardly seize people who happened to be near it. Soon, a pattern began to emerge from the names on the page before her.

FARWELL FAMILY

- DRUELLA – 1940

- HAMISH – 1961

- XAVIER - 1990

MULL FAMILY

- ANDRAX – 1972

- HANS – 1979

WUTHERSPOT FAMILY

- MARY – 1920

- FREDA – 1955

- MARTIN- 1982

PEPPERCLOT FAMILY

- ROSE – 1926

- HEATHER – 1929

- ARNOLD – 1942

BLACK FAMILY

- CARINA – 1918

- ORION I – 1939

- SIRIUS III - 1996

"Hermione!" a voice cried from the hallway.

"In here, Harry!" she replied, quickly turning each sheet over so the writing wasn't visible.

"Why have you been in here all day? I've barely seen you," Harry complained, letting himself in and perching on the edge of her desk.

"I've been assigned to a new project; Sorry, it's been taking up all of my time," she explained, pulling her chair out so she could face towards him.

"So, what's the project?" he asked, picking up her pen and flipping it up in the air repeatedly.

"You know I can't tell you that, Harry," she sighed, giving him a stern look.

"Actually, you can," he said proudly, his face lighting up.

"Excuse me?"

"Do you think Kingsley hasn't already told me what you're doing? I know that you're studying the Veil, 'Mione." He said laughing, "So, tell me what you've found so far."

She felt quite relieved to know that there was someone outside the department that she could actually speak to about this; she didn't particularly like most of her colleagues anyway.

"Okay, so my boss gave me a list of names for the people who have fallen through the Veil; the strange thing is, they all seem to be in groups – as in, family groups. It's like the Veil has specifically selected specific families to take two or three members from. And not only that, but once that family has been chosen, nothing will stop that member from somehow finding their way to the Death Chamber. It just happens…"

"How? How is that even possible?" Harry asked, perplexed.

She shook her head, "I don't know; but there was one case where a witch from the Pepperclot family was away on holiday with her family in 1929. She had never heard of the Veil, she wasn't even aware the Ministry had a Department of Mysteries so she certainly couldn't have apparated there willingly. And one day she just vanished from her hotel and just appeared in the chamber, and then the Veil took her. Once your name is marked, nothing stops it from taking you."

Harry was silent for a moment, taking all the information in, then said slowly, "So there was nothing we could have done for Sirius…"

"It appears not," she replied solemnly, "two of his family member had already been taken. It was his fate, I suppose."

She knew Harry wouldn't accept the "fate" speech – for some reason he had always blamed himself for his godfather's death. It had been no one's fault thought, really. Judging by what she had just found, Sirius would have winded up in that room at some point in his life anyway. That didn't make him being gone any less difficult though.

"Why don't you take a break?" Harry asked, jumping down from the table and grabbing her hands to pull her up from the chair, "You've been working on this like a crazy person today."

She agreed to have a little rest and followed him into the kitchen.

"Hey, guys! Come up here!" They heard Ron bellow from somewhere above them.

"Where are you, mate?" Harry shouted back, heading towards the staircase.

"The attic. Found some bloody cool stuff up here!" He replied. They didn't bother asking him why he'd been rootling through the attic, and ran up the stairs immediately.

They found themselves in a very murky room, with dark beams and a ceiling so low that even Harry had to bend his knees to walk through. They found Ron at the far corner; a strange sight considering he was so afraid of spiders, and Harry was certain there was more than just spiders crawling around the house. The smell of damp was overwhelming but they ignored it just to see what their housemate had found.

"So," Ron began, "I came up here cause I remembered Sirius saying ages ago that somewhere in the house was a box containing the actual dragon hide gloves of Dimitar Draganov, you know – the famous Seeker from Bulgaria? Well, apparently he won them in a card game years ago and I'd completely forgotten about it! So I came up to have a look, and this place is like a treasure chest!"

By the end of his speech, Ron was flailing his arms around like an excited six year old boy who'd just been given his first broomstick.

"So what have you found?" Harry asked, peering into the various boxes scattered and stacked precariously around the room.

"Check It out for yourself; it's all in here," Ron replied, pushing a large cardboard box in their direction, overflowing with unfamiliar items.

Harry first pulled out a dusty photo frame; it appeared to just be made of wood, but the photo – like any magical photograph – moved like a short film. He handed the picture to Hermione who sat with her hand outstretched. The photograph showed a group of four young men all stood beside one another, with their arms draped around each other's shoulders.

"They look very familiar…" Hermione said quietly, frowning as she watched the four men grinning and play fighting.

Harry glanced up at her and nodded, then pointed at one of the men, the shorter out of the four with stringy blonde hair – he was considerably plumper than the rest of them but seemed to be having just as fun as the rest of them. "Peter Pettigrew," Harry said, and then pointed to the next one who was noticeably taller than Peter, with awful scratches on his face and neatly combed hair. This one seemed to be trying, and failing to keep a straight face as the others light-heartedly prodded him in the ribs. "Remus Lupin," he continued, and then pointed to the next one. There was no doubt who that was – "James Potter," he said softly, smiling at the photo where his father was putting the boy to his left in a head lock and scrubbing his head with his fist. The last one had wavy black hair that reached just below his chin. He seemed to be the one out of all of the trying to cause the most trouble, and trying to prevent the men from keeping straight faces. He was just slightly shorter than Remus and about the same height as James. Both men were handsome, but Hermione couldn't deny she was more partial to the black haired boy than the Harry look-alike.

"Sirius Black," Harry finally said, pointing to the last man. Hermione couldn't stop the heat rising to her cheeks once she realised that she'd really just been checking out her best friend's godfather.

"Are you okay, 'Mione?" he asked, his brows coming together in concern.

"Yes," she nodded frantically, "yes, I'm fine," but she was struggling to keep her eyes off the photograph, and more specifically, off of Sirius.

He looked so happy and carefree; it was such a strange sight to see him so relaxed. It seemed like a different man, in comparison to the one she first met in the Shrieking Shack all those years ago. Having only known him when he was in his late thirties, it had never really occurred to her that once he had been a very handsome young man. Not that he hadn't been handsome when she'd known him, but the man in the photo was so striking, she almost felt her heart beat quicken!

She put the frame down and focused on what else Harry was pulling from the box. The next item was a very old velvet box containing a set of sapphire encrusted earrings and a very grand looking necklace. Having read briefly about Pureblood traditions, she supposed they could be the family jewels which were meant for the wife of the eldest son. It was not surprising that they had just been tucked away in the attic after all this time, really.

"Do you recognise this book, Mione?" Ron asked, holding up a large, dark green leather book. The cover was so thick with dust that the writing was barely legible and Hermione had to smear it with her hand. It read Sonnets of a Sorcerer.

"Ronald, put that book down right now." Hermione cried, almost tearing it from him and immediately whipping her wand out and casting a sticking charm to the pages.

"What – what is it?" Harry asked, not even daring to touch the book after the response it produced from her.

"It's lucky you didn't open it when you saw this, Ron. I've been told about this book before; it went missing from the Restricted Section of Hogwarts about twenty years ago. Anyone who reads it is forced to speak in limericks for the rest of their life," she explained, stuffing it back into the bottom of one of the boxes.

"Sirius' idea of a joke, I'm guessing," Harry said quietly.

She nodded and muttered, "Perhaps it's best we don't search through this stuff. Some of it could be cursed for all we know,"

Harry agreed and they both stood to exit the room.

"Suit yourselves," Ron shouted, "I'll take my chances. Finders keepers!"

"Honestly," Hermione sighed once they got back to the study, "that boy is going to get his fingers cursed off one day."

Harry just laughed; "He's got another thing coming if he thinks he's keeping any of it…Well, he can have the portrait of Sirius' mother if he really wants something."

"I really should go back to work now, Harry," she said, grimacing but feeling quite eager to discover more about the Veil. Deep down it worried Hermione that - although she was telling herself she wasn't doing this to discover more about Sirius- she would never find an explanation or even potentially a way to reverse what had happened. She felt like she owed something to Harry, and to Sirius and maybe that was to bring him back – Give him a second chance at life, when his first chance had been ruined at every turn.

"Actually, it's almost dinner time. Neville said he'd cook tonight, so go and collect your things from the study and we'll talk about this over dinner. Okay?"


End file.
